<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Breakfast Club by EmmaLeeWrites</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29454750">The Breakfast Club</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaLeeWrites/pseuds/EmmaLeeWrites'>EmmaLeeWrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Breakfast Club (1985), The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breakfast Club AU, Gen, Let's see what these characters do when they aren't in Star Wars, Modern AU, Moff Gideon is an asshole teacher, Not really anything that wasn't touched on in the Breakfast Club, Weed, mentions of abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:49:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,525</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29454750</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaLeeWrites/pseuds/EmmaLeeWrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Din, Migs, Cara, Fennec, Boba, and Bo-Katan find themselves stuck in detention on a Saturday with Vice Principal Gideon in charge. Fun. Especially when most of them hate each other, don't know each other, and typically have no reason to be anywhere near each other. But even one day is a lot of time to spend stuck in the same room, and when they have a common enemy in Gideon, maybe it won't be as bad as they think.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Sin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Saturday </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>be a day for sleeping late. For eating junk food and playing video games and maybe, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, hanging with Xi’an, Burg, Zero, and Qin at the baseball field. And definitely ignoring all of the school work he’s supposed to have. Instead, Migs is rolling out of bed at six in the morning. He gets dressed, brushes his teeth, eats breakfast, barely opening his eyes throughout it all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Detention. Again. He hadn’t even done anything this time, just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had all the blame shoved in his direction. Almost all. He’s the known asshole, the one that always misbehaves, of course nobody believed him. It still fucking sucks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Migs shoves his boots on his feet and walks out the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cara glares at the school as the car rolls to a stop. The last place she wants to be at seven o’clock on a Saturday is school. Or, well, maybe if it was for an extracurricular activity, she’d be more interested. But not detention. Detention is a nightmare on multiple fronts, least of which--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her parents. They’ve barely spoken to her, other than clipped and angry pleasantries, since her ‘stunt’, as they call it. Embarrassing. Unacceptable. Ridiculous. It’s much better to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>good kid than a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>kid. Do what the rules say are right, rather than debate if they actually are or not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glances at her mom, staring steadily out of the windshield. “See you at four, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her mom nods. “Do your homework.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t have any homework,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Cara thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I finished it last night.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She gets out of the car. “Don’t worry, I’ll be good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Debatable, but admittedly, there’s not much to do at detention on a Saturday.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Din sits at one of the tables and looks everywhere but the other kids. He recognizes them, but he’s never said a word to any of them and refuses to start now. Fett gives him a curious look, one that Din sees out of the corner of his eye. Din bites back a scowl. At least they can’t see his eyes, what with his sunglasses and all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’ll just lay low, do as told, and hope Gideon doesn’t try to take his anger out on him (because of course Gideon is in charge of detention). And speaking of Gideon, the man is talking. Din zones back in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Boba reclines in his seat. Gideon is speaking, some monologue or other. He doesn’t care. It’s just something about how they’re all wasting their lives, yadda yadda yadda. Instead, he watches the other kids in detention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Migs Mayfeld, known troublemaker and c student. He’s pretty sure Migs is afraid of him, even though he’s never done anything to earn that fear. Probably something to do with Boba’s dad. Or maybe just because Boba’s big and boisterous and neither of them knew each other when Boba was just a chubby-cheeked kid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks at the next person. Cara Dune, the smartest girl in school (and most opinionated). She doesn’t like him, like the way he coasts by in their classes with B grades earned with barely any effort; she doesn’t like how his father has nothing to say about it. She seems pretty happy to see him here, and Boba just raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next up, all the way at the corner table and half turned away, sits Din Djarin, the quiet kid that Boba admittedly knows nothing about. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wonder what he did to get here.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They’ve passed each other in the halls before, Din always looking up or down or anywhere but at people-- unless he has his sunglasses, like he does now, and then he always looks straight ahead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting at the front is Bo-Katan Kryze. Boba wrinkles his nose. Of course she’s here. The perfect princess finally did something detention worthy… the day Boba is also in detention. Briefly, he wonders what she’s done, then decides he doesn’t care. She’ll probably share it anyway, in an attempt to prove she’s better than the rest of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And… Fennec. Alright, it’s not that much of a surprise to see her here. She’s as much of a troublemaker as Migs is, but quieter about it. Her misbehaviors don’t usually end with her getting caught, but they’re always fun to watch the fallout of. There’s a reason they’re friends.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bo-Katan sits straight in her seat. She keeps her face carefully calm and places her hands, folded, on the table in front of her. The perfect student. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>best </span>
  </em>
  <span>student. Anything to convince Gideon that she’ll catch up on her schoolwork, and certainly won’t end up in detention again. She should be able to go back to field hockey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She won’t go as far as pretending she’s going to be a teacher’s pet from now on, especially what that teacher is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gideon</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but she can act sufficiently admonished and therefore, ready for reintegration.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo-Katan will just have to find a way to kill Gideon with kindness, in a way that Gideon knows exactly what she’s doing while the rest of the world thinks she’s just being a good student. Koska and Axe will help, like always.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is now seven o’ six. You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four minutes to think about why you’re here, ponder the error of your ways. You may not talk. You will not move from these seats.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo-Katan glares at him on the inside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. We’re going to do something a bit different today.” Gideon begins passing pieces of paper out. Fennec eyes the one he sets in front of her. “We are going to write an essay,  no less than a thousand words, describing to me who you think you are. And when I say essay, I mean essay. I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fennec says nothing. Nobody does, actually. She would’ve expected Dune to say something, even a quick affirmative, but no. Gideon doesn’t seem bothered by their lack of enthusiasm, and continues like he hadn’t stopped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My office is right across that hall. I’ll know if you try to misbehave. Assume I know everything. Any questions?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another moment of silence. Then Mayfeld stretches, fixes a cocky smirk on his face. “Yeah, your wife called, she wants her bathrobe back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon’s mouth twists, then straightens into a smooth grin with as much cockiness as Mayfeld’s. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I try.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not hard enough to get passing grades, apparently. You’ve just earned yourself detention next Saturday as well, Mr. Mayfeld.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A scowl flashes across Mayfeld’s face, but he keeps whatever comment he has to himself. Somehow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Call Fennec impressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon turns and leaves without a second glance, so sure of himself it’s practically in the air. Fennec watches him until he’s sat at his desk and engrossed in paperwork, then turns back to the matter at hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The six of them, stuck in a room until four in the afternoon.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Enemy of My Enemy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For the first ten minutes, nobody says a word. Kryze keeps sitting like she’s in a posture competition, staring ahead like she can just pretend all of the rest of them aren’t in the room with her. The others make themselves as comfortable as they can: Mayfeld props his feet on the seat next to him and leans back, Dune does the same, Fett rests his head on his hand, and Shand relaxes in her seat, hands clasped behind her head. Din, on the other hand, still faces halfway away from them and watches out of the corner of his eye, grateful for his sunglasses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least Gideon hadn’t said anything. He has the feeling that if Mayfeld hadn’t been around he would’ve gotten the brunt of Gideon’s attention. At least Mayfeld’s good for </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kryze moves suddenly, reaching into her back to pull out a pencil. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s going to write her essay,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Din thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wonder if Gideon will punish all of us if not everyone writes theirs.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For another few minutes, the only sound is Kryze writing; she erases as often as she writes, and though Din is hardly an expert at body language, he can tell she’s quickly getting annoyed. After another minute of failing to write, she crumples up her paper and throws it into the trash.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fett snickers. Kryze twists in her seat, glaring at him. “You got a problem, Fett?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None at all.” Fett grins. “You?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will if you keep opening your mouth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fett’s grin somehow gets even bigger. “Do I really have to remind you that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>spoke first?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up, both of you.” Cara mutters. She sits up. “I think we can all agree that we don’t want Gideon coming back, so how about we be quiet and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>attract him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kryze growls and turns forward again. Fett leans back in his seat, seemingly satisfied. Din takes the moment to glance over to Gideon’s office. He’s still reading something-or-other at his desk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He hasn’t noticed a thing. Any louder, though...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” Shand drawls. “We could close the door. Then we can be as loud as we want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon will just open it again.” Kryze says. “And then we’ll get in trouble for closing it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He won’t open it again if it </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>open.” Shand says. “All we need to do is mess with the locking mechanism and the door will slide shut every time he tries.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and who’s gonna take the fall for messing with the door? Not me, that’s for sure.” Mayfeld says. He scowls at Shand. “And if you fucking try to blame me for it-- because that’s what he’ll do-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-He won’t have any proof we did anything, as long as we all keep our mouths shut.” Shand grins. “What do you say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s right there. He’ll notice you messing with the door.” Dune says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So we wait until he walks away. He’ll take a bathroom break eventually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Fett agrees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din holds back a sigh. The others blabber on; Din tunes them out. He has better things to think about, like what he’s going to eat for dinner (there’s no way the Castones will let him eat with them, they’ll just send him to his room when he gets home and he’ll have to sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night to find something small). He messes with the ring on his finger, twisting it around and around and around-- someone says his name. He blinks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” He asks, turning to look at Shand straight on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said, we’re doing a vote. Kryze and Mayfeld say we should keep the door as is, Fett and I think we should close it, and Dune doesn’t give a fuck. We need you to be the deciding vote.” Shand points to the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Din watches, Gideon stands from his desk and strides out of his office. His eyes flick around the tables. Mayfeld, scowling. Kryze, looking down her nose at the rest of them. Fett, still smirking. Dune, unreadable. He props his elbow on the table and rests his head on his palm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck Gideon.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Close it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shand smirks, standing with all the grace of a cat, and walks to the door. She glances into the hall, then turns to them to give a thumbs up. They watch with bated breath. She fiddles with the locking mechanism (probably a screw), pausing every few seconds to glance down the hall, and finally-- the door swings shut. Shand saunters back to her table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re actually fucked.” Mayfeld mutters. “I can’t believe you three.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the one that’s always in detention. Why’re you giving them a hard time?” Dune says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din hides his smirk behind his hand. It probably doesn’t convince anyone, but it’s not like any of them are paying attention to him, anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because it’s one thing if I’m fucking with the administrators and getting detention for it. It’s another thing if I’m getting in trouble for something someone else did!” Mayfeld snaps. His eyes flash to Din, then back to Dune.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, I hate that I agree with you.” Kryze mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feeling’s mutual.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door swings open. Gideon walks in. His face is stony, lips pressed together in a flat line, and he strides over to them with more serenity than he has any right to have. His gaze sweeps over them all. Gideon points to the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He says, slowly and smoothly, “is that door closed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something in Din’s stomach wants out. He’s no stranger to getting in trouble, he’s used to pain and anger and loss and all the shitty emotions in the world-- but it’s the calmness, the quiet disappointment, that he hates the most. Because it’s never real, never genuine, not from anyone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Quiet disappointment</span>
  </em>
  <span> is just </span>
  <em>
    <span>subtle manipulation</span>
  </em>
  <span> under the guise of compassion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, Fett speaks up. “It just closed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon quirks an eyebrow. “Did it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep.” Fett crosses his arms. “We all saw it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon’s gaze sweeps over them again, pausing on Kryze. “Is that what happened, Miss Kryze?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And nobody’s been out of their seats?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, sir. We’ve just been sitting here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon clearly doesn’t believe them, and for once Din doesn’t blame him (considering they did, in fact, mess with the door). But he’s an effective common enemy, and the choice between telling Gideon the truth (and having everyone else angry at you) or lying along with everyone (and having Gideon angry at everyone without actual proof) isn’t much of a choice at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives them each a stern look, and walks back to the door. He swings it open, tries to get it to stay. It doesn’t. He pulls a folding chair from beside the door and tries to prop the door with it. That doesn’t work, either. Din smirks into his hand again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Dune, Mr. Mayfeld.” Gideon says. “Come here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dune and Mayfeld walk over without a word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon points to a display shelf filled with school-produced newspapers and journals. “Put that in front of the door.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din shakes his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not going to work,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s too big.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is, and Din thoroughly enjoys the angry frown and narrowed eyes Gideon sports as he directs Dune and Mayfeld to put the shelf back where it belongs. Then Gideon is staring at them all with leagues of disappointment (all signs of anger gone, just bitter, bitter disappointment) and Din feels like he’s going to throw up again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would have expected better from some of you.” Gideon says. “Particularly from the varsity field hockey captain and the senior valedictorian.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din eyes Dune. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is she really valedictorian? Is that something that can be known before the end of the year?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He admittedly doesn’t know how all of that works and frankly, doesn’t care, either. Still. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell did she do to get detention?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And don’t think you’re fooling me. I know one of you messed with the door. I know the rest of you are lying to me. The next time one of you falls out of line, expect to be punished for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that all of us, or just the one that did something wrong?” Fett drawls. “Because I think it’s a little unfair if we all get in trouble for something only one of us did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then perhaps,” Gideon strolls over to him. “You should tell me who closed the door. After all, I doubt all of you walked over and closed it. If you really don’t want to be punished for something you didn’t do…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fett shrugs. “Door closed on its own. I don’t know what to tell you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon hums. “One day you kids will learn that the only thing you get out of being disrespectful is discipline. You will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>get what you want.” Gideon walks to the door and pauses. “Just because this door is closed doesn’t mean I don’t know what you’re doing. The next time that I have to come in here--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din becomes very suddenly aware that Mayfeld is mouthing along to everything Gideon is saying. He must say it a lot, then, if Mayfeld’s managed to memorize it. Din grins. So Mayfeld’s got his problems-- mocking Gideon puts him just a bit higher on Din’s respect scale.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And like that, Gideon is gone.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Man, school has really been kicking my butt. Wish this could've been out sooner, but school comes first. That being said, it's incredibly hard to write an essay when all you want to do is write fanfiction...  Anyway, we have Din's POV here, but next chapter we'll have someone who's not as much of an observer as he is. Let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Is Not My Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bo-Katan breaths slowly through her nose. She can already feel a headache coming on. Close the door, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. She hadn’t believed them for a minute, and she was right! Now Gideon is ready to fly off the handle at the smallest provocation, and she’s stuck in a room with the most annoying people on Earth with the door </span>
  <em>
    <span>closed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The only person in the same state of mind about the door is Mayfeld of all people, and she hates that possibly more than anything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, that hasn’t stopped him from immediately being a nuisance. Gideon had taken their phones as they walked into the room, and Mayfeld seems to have taken it upon himself to be the entertainment for the day. He’s taken to folding pieces of printer paper into shapes-- of all people, she wouldn’t have thought he’d know origami, but, whatever. They aren’t anything normal, like swans and flowers and geometric shapes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s made a dozen paper airplanes and thrown them around the room. Paper claws, somehow, and he uses them to poke and scratch at his face without a care in the world. He makes a few origami people and plays with them like he’s a literal child instead of a high school student a year from graduating. It’s exhausting, and there’s absolutely nothing else to do but watch him. Except for writing that essay, but… she’ll try that again in a few hours, maybe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least everyone else is as bored as she is. Shand seems to be taking a nap-- how anyone can take a nap at nine in the morning after (supposedly) getting a full night’s sleep, Bo-Katan doesn’t know. Fett’s been staring at the ceiling for an hour, tracing invisible lines with his finger. Dune’s cycled between messing with her hair and drumming her fingers against the desk, and Djarin--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hasn’t moved since Gideon left. Bo-Katan’s watched. He literally hasn’t moved, and she’d honestly think he was dead if this wasn’t normal for him. They have History class together, and he does that every single day. He sits, doesn’t move, and when class is over he’s the first out the door. It’s a little freaky, honestly, especially with the sunglasses. If he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>die, how long would it take someone to notice?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Djarin’s head jerks suddenly, turning to look directly at her. His mouth twitches into a frown, but he doesn’t say anything. Bo-Katan presses her lips together and twists around in her seat so she’s sitting correctly. Straight forward, straight up, ready for action. Not that there’s any action to take part in at the moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Din!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>This will be good.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo-Katan twists around again to watch drama. Mayfeld’s perched himself half on his table and half on the back of his chair in a not-so-stunning feat of passable skill. He throws one of his paper airplanes at Djarin’s head. It flies wildly out of the way, sliding to the floor several feet from Djarin’s table. Djarin doesn’t react at all. Mayfeld doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Din!” Mayfeld throws another paper airplane. “I just wanna talk!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo-Katan watches Djarin’s mouth twitch, briefly, before settling back into a neutral expression. Apparently, Mayfeld doesn’t like the lack of a reaction, because he drops to the floor and saunters over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Mayfeld says. He puts one hand on the table, leaning slightly over Djarin. “What’s up with those sunglasses, anyway? Teachers don’t let </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>wear sunglasses in school. Or anyone else, for that matter. You blind or something? Nah, you can’t be, you don’t have one of those sticks blind people use.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She has to applaud Djarin for his lack of reaction. He doesn’t even act like Mayfeld’s said anything at all, let alone something like that. Mayfeld pokes him in the forehead. “Well? Is it because you’re one of the good kids? Well, not anymore, I mean look at where we are. Or is it a looks thing? You’re ugly enough that you got a doctor’s note saying you can keep those on in school?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave him be, Mayfeld.” Dune says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? It’s a genuine question. I just wanna know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He has no reason to tell you anything.” Dune says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayfeld blinks. He straightens. “Well then, why don’t you tell me something, huh? How does the teacher’s pet, smartest girl in the class,</span>
  <em>
    <span> senior valedictorian,</span>
  </em>
  <span> end up in detention?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s none of your business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you what I did.” Fett says. He straightens. “I let a goose loose in the teacher’s lounge.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, how badass of you.” Bo-Katan sneers. “At least come up with a better lie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never said it would be badass, princess</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Fett says. He bares his teeth. “Say, what did you do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t call me princess!” She snaps. Anger curls in her stomach. That’s a low blow and he knows it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stands and stalks over to him, clenching her fists. “Not coming from a degenerate like you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fett stands. He’s not quite as tall as she is, but that doesn’t mean much. He’s strong. But so is she, and field hockey isn’t the only extracurricular activity she spends her time doing, to the chagrin of her parents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have a problem with me?” Fett hisses. The curliness of his hair takes away from the anger in his face, she thinks. Makes him look softer, less intimidating. He should do something about that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do, actually. You’re nothing but a barbaric jackass with a druggie mother and a father that’s been to jail more times than you can count. All six of your siblings are in juvie. You’re headed down the same path, Fett. How does that make you feel?” She takes half a step closer. They’re inches apart now. She can feel the heat radiating off his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know anything about my life. But if you really want to go there, princess,” he growls the word. “Then I think it’s only fair we talk about yours. Your sister’s in a coma because of what, exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s fire in her veins, in her head, in her heart. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How dare he?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How fucking dare he?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She raises her arm, intending on punching the lights out of him, but-- Djarin is there, holding her elbow with an iron grip. He tilts his head slightly, first looking at her, and then Fett.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not worth it.” He says and lets go of her arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tension in the room dissipates. She’s not done being angry, not by far, but she’ll let this go for now. If she gets in a fight at school, she’s done for. No field hockey and no martial arts, angry parents and for what? Because she let a Fett get the better of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stalks back to her chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that was something.” Mayfeld says nervously. She glares at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up, Mayfeld. You started it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t start that. All I did was ask Din why he wears sunglasses.” Mayfeld sits on his table. He crosses his arms. “Your little spat had nothing to do with me. By the way, thanks for the idea. I’m absolutely smuggling a goose into the school now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course you are. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, uh, yeah. Bit of heaviness to this one, bit of backstory. Trying to write something of a modern!au from a story that has magic and high-tech science in it is... something else, that's for sure. How do you adapt Bo-Katan's backstory into something a teenager in 2021 could have? Boba? With a lot of careful thought, apparently.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Panem Et Circenses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Head up, there's some talk about abuse in this chapter! It's not incredibly detailed, but I'd hate to trigger someone because they weren't prepared. It's right at the end.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lunchtime rolls around without much more commotion-- after Mayfeld’s attempt at causing chaos (and his admitted success, just not the way he meant), nobody is much in the mood for talking. Not that anyone really wanted to talk beforehand, but it’s definitely worse after. Fennec could cut the tension with a knife. So, when Gideon walks into the room to find them studiously ignoring each other, she’s actually grateful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s time for lunch.” Gideon says. He clasps his hands behind his back. “You have thirty minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayfeld scoffs. “And then what? You’ll throw what’s left in the trash?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it usually take you longer than that to eat?” It’s not a question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayfeld answers anyway. “I mean, it could. Just seems a little ridiculous that you’d try to keep us from eating if it happened to take longer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thirty minutes is the same amount of time you get for lunch here at school, Mr. Mayfeld.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I complain about that all the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon’s face remains impassive, but his posture shifts ever-so-slightly. Oh, he’s pissed. Fennec smiles. This seems like the perfect time to add to the fire. She leans forward in her seat, folding her hands neatly on the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will milk be provided? The cafeteria always supplies milk to anyone that didn’t bring a drink with their lunch from home.” She smiles innocently at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dune joins in. “We’re extremely thirsty, sir. None of us brought drinks with us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon narrows his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a really low tolerance for dehydration.” Kryze adds. “I need to stay in shape for field hockey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even the sports queen doesn’t like Gideon. Fennec can appreciate that, even if her holier-than-thou attitude is tiring. Acting like she knows anything about the rest of them-- it’s exhausting to be around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon gestures to Dune. “There’s a vending machine in the teacher’s lounge. You’ll go. And Djarin-” He points at Djarin. “-you as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Djarin doesn’t react. Fennec has no idea if he’s paying attention, or even if he’s awake. If he is aware of what’s going on, though, he doesn’t seem to want to be part of it. Gideon snaps-- literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>snaps-- </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Djarin. I’m talking to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Djarin looks over slowly. He tilts his head, as if weighing his options, and then stands. Together, he and Dune are ushered out of the room by Gideon, and the rest of them are left alone in their thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hers turn to Mayfeld-- he's a troublemaker through and through, an asshole. None of the teachers like him and to be honest, he’s given them plenty of reasons. She has no idea why he acts the way he does. Entitlement, maybe, or a bad home life. An undiagnosed or untreated behavioral disorder. There could be a number of reasons, and she wouldn’t put any though to it at all, except--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to close the door. He’s known for fucking with teachers, pissing them off and acting up in class. He has detention all the time (and earned detention </span>
  <em>
    <span>in </span>
  </em>
  <span>detention!). She’s seen him mouth off at Gideon several times today. So why was he so worried about getting in trouble for closing the door? Because he doesn’t want to get in trouble for something he didn’t do? That doesn’t quite make sense, given he could have just… done it himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cara walks down the hall. Gideon apparently trusts them enough to let them go alone. She doesn’t know what Djarin’s done to get detention, so she can’t say whether Gideon ‘trusts’ him or not, but Gideon must have a high enough opinion of her to not be their chaperone. He clearly doesn’t like her. But this is her first offense, technically, and she’s a model student otherwise, so. And Djarin isn’t that much of a troublemaker, anyway. She doesn’t know much about him-- he lives with foster parents in the good part of town, he’s quiet, he clearly gets good grades because he’s in her honors math class.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cara glances at him. She can’t see past the sunglasses, as usual. Like Mayfeld, she doesn’t know why he wears them or why the teachers let him. And he usually wears them-- she can count on one hand the times she’s seen him without them. Those days he always looks anywhere but at people, down and away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So.” She says. “Wouldn’t have expected to see you here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugs. It’s true, they don’t know each other. He’s new to the school this year, even, and she has no idea what brought him here (it’s because of his foster parents, whatever situation sent him to them-).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but you’re quiet and a good student, from what I’ve seen. You get caught drinking or something? Smuggle in some chew or weed and get caught?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you do?” Djarin says instead of answering. He takes a few steps closer, suddenly only inches away, crowding into her space. If she was less confident, it would have been a good intimidation tactic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fair play.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He didn’t want to talk earlier, didn’t have to, and she has no right asking him now. Just because she defended him from the question when they were in front of everyone else doesn’t give her the right to ask in private.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cara shrugs again, taking a step back. Something tightens in her throat, briefly, like her brain is afraid the answer will just come out without consulting it first. “My parents like to make sure I won’t mess up my future with a stupid decision. Every once in a while they send me in here, just to keep the thought alive. I get no say in the matter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lights are too bright, too all-seeing and overexposing. They know the truth, they scream. They see it all in their bright fluorescence. Nothing can hide. She wonders if this is why Djarin wears his sunglasses, to hide from the world and prying eyes. To seem different than what he is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t believe that.” Djarin says. “But I don’t actually care, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Waiting for Dune and Djarin to return with drinks is a nightmare. Boba and Kryze are practically ready to go at each other again, carefully avoiding each other like they want to come out the other side saying ‘I didn’t start it, see it was them!’ and be absolved of all sins. Fennec doesn’t actually blame Boba for wanting a go at Kryze, nor does she blame Kryze for wanting a go at Boba.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kryze thinks she’s better than everyone else and has a special hatred for Boba’s family. Boba is an asshole and an instigator and doesn’t back down from a challenge, especially one at his family. Kryze has a lot of bark, but rarely follows through on the bite. Boba’s a guy of few words, but if he wants a fight, he’ll get it, no matter what the other person wants. Okay, Kryze is still the asshole in the situation, absolutely and without a doubt. But if she hadn’t started it, Boba would have eventually, and bringing up Satine was-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a low blow. Fennec knows that. Boba knows that. It was meant to hurt and while Fennec isn’t exactly one to fight fire with fire, get as low as the opponent is going, she gets why Boba said what he did. It’s only natural, to hear something personal spat with hatred and contempt, and to return in kind. All the good people in the world say that you should never go as low as your enemy, because it makes you just as bad as them. But that’s not realistic for so many people. Fennec would, if she had to, but it’s so much more effective to manipulate the situation into something preferable, to lay the facts out and let everyone else come to their own conclusions, not realizing that she wouldn’t have said anything at all if she didn’t already know what conclusions would be made. She doesn’t fight fire with fire-- she funnels it through the house while letting the fire think it’s doing it of its own accord.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d have done that, too, was about to, but Djarin had moved first. He was unexpected. He’d moved quickly. One second he’d been sitting at his table, seemingly dead to the world, and the next he’d had Kryze’s elbow in his hand and a foot set squarely on one of Boba’s. Like that, the fight had gone out of the two of them. Momentarily, at least. The coals still burn, ready to reignite, but for now-- crisis averted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And what had Djarin even done that for? Fennec would have acted because Boba’s her friend. Djarin doesn’t know any of them, clearly doesn’t like any of them, and yet he’d thrown himself in the middle of an almost-fight and they all know the only reason he wasn’t dragged into the actual fight was because he was unexpected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She muses this, and more, watching Boba and Kryze make faces towards-- but not at, at is too direct, so towards-- each other. Mayfeld practically vibrates in his seat, watching them with interest but clearly too afraid to speak up about it. Fennec catches his eye, and smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, do anything fun lately?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinks, glances between Boba and Kryze, and straightens. “Oh, you know. I get around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Fennec asks. She raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean? You and your pack of friends making trouble at the Superwalmart?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He snorts. “Not like there’s anything else to do in this city.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s that minigolf place by the A&amp;W.” Fennec says. “Boba and I go there and challenge the owners for a game once a week. If we win, they buy us dinner. If they win, we buy them dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bet Burg would like that.” He mutters. “Nah, but really. I meant… other things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Other things?” Fennec asks. Amusement curls in her stomach. “If you mean ‘sex’, just say it. ‘Other things’ makes you sound like a blushing twelve year old.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To his credit, Mayfeld doesn’t blush. It’s clearly not the reaction he was expecting, though, if the way he quickly glances away and back repeatedly is any indication. “Well, fine. Just trying to make sure Gideon doesn’t hear, you know. God knows he’d give us a lecture.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba snorts. Fennec glances at him. He grins at her. “Oh, he’d want to give us a lecture. But have you </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen </span>
  </em>
  <span>the way teachers get when they have to talk about things they don’t deem school appropriate? They act like parents when their six year olds ask how babies are made.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fennec laughs. “Well, Gideon’s not here now. Who’d you have sex with, huh, Mayfeld?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Xi’an.” Mayfeld says without hesitation. He grins. “Sometimes the neighbor girls, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Xi’an, huh?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I don’t believe that for a second. Xi’an’s way out of your league.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mayfeld asks, indignant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba chuckles. Even Kryze seems to be holding in laughter. Fennec swishes her braid. “I’m not saying you’re ugly, Mayfeld, you’re just not her type.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Kryze muses. “I mean, she’s hot as hell and knows it, but she </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>hiss at people because she thinks it’s funny. I think that makes them perfect for each other.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayfeld frowns. He leans forward. “What, you think I’m lying because you think she’s too hot for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you’re lying because she’s definitely a lesbian, Mayfeld.” Fennec says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayfeld’s ears turn red. “You don’t know that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She flirts with guys, sure, but have you ever seen her with one? Absolutely not.” Fennec licks her lips. “But she had no problem kissing me last week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba bursts into a wheezing laughter, doubling over and nearly falling out of his chair. Mayfeld gapes, opening and closing his mouth. His face is as red as his ears, now. He coughs, then crosses his arms, and twists in his seat to look away. Kryze snickers into her hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This isn’t quite so bad now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Migs watches the others pull their food out with no small amount of jealousy. He’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>starving</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His ‘breakfast’ this morning had been a few pieces of stale bread with old jelly spread on it. He knows there’s nothing left to eat but his dad’s food-- and there’ll be hell to pay if he touches it. So, he’ll drink his coke and pretend it’s enough. Cara pulls a to-go container from her bag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatcha got there?” He asks, climbing over the table and taking a seat next to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She eyes him. “Chicken salad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fun.” He says. Dune doesn’t give any indication she hears him. He sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lets see,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Migs thinks. Bo-Katan’s brought what looks like a sub, but he can’t tell what kind. Probably something full of meat and cheese. He looks away. Fennec has soup-- it’s white and lumpy, maybe some kind of clam chowder? His stomach rumbles. Soup is pretty easy, most of the time. The canned shit doesn’t cost a whole lot, and it’s easy to slip one or two in his clothes when people aren’t looking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba has a monster of a meal, two sandwiches and a whole bag of doritos and what has to be nearly a pound of beef jerky. A grapefruit. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>has money for all that, Migs doesn’t know. Maybe his dad isn’t as much of an asshole as Migs’ is, even with the whole jail thing. Whatever. He’s not going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>ask</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Migs frowns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din is-- Din is making some sort of a concoction over at his table. He has a hamburger with all the toppings laid out in pieces, and as Migs watches, he picks up the buns and slathers them in honey, then strawberry jelly. Then he carefully places the burger on the bottom bun and puts honey and jelly on that, too. Din replaces all the other pieces without adding more honey. Lettuce, pickles, tomato, onions, what looks like some sort of pepper, and the top bun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Who would do such a thing to a perfectly fine burger? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Migs wonders. His face must be something funny, because Din grins at him as he takes a bite. The first emotion Migs sees out of him and he’s taking the piss out of him. Of course. Well, at least his appetite is gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t you bring anything?” Someone asks. Migs blinks, looking around. Cara stares at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would I do that?” He says, letting a smile fall across his face like it’s second nature. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>second nature.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t you hungry?” Bo-Katan speaks up this time, holding half of her sub in her hand as she twists around to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Migs frowns at her. “What do you care?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did almost start a fight with Gideon.” Bo-Katan says. She sniffs. “You know, about being able to finish your non-existent lunch in time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we all know that I like pissing him off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apparently.” Bo-Katan rolls her eyes. “Except when the door is involved. That’s different, somehow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, we’ve already been over </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No need to bring it up again.” Migs stands up, crawling back over the table to the seat he’s been in all day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You act like you like getting detention. Unless you’re getting in trouble for something you didn’t do, like you were afraid of with the door.” Cara says. “You have some sort of kink or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I had an authority kink I wouldn’t play it out with the fucking VP.” Migs says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m not judging.” Cara smirks, absolutely judging. “It just seems like you get something out of being in detention.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I do.” Migs mutters caustically. There’s an itch, suddenly. All over his body and so, so deep within his skin, within his bones. He grits his teeth. “Not everyone can be little miss perfect with perfect grades and perfect parents. Tell me, what’s a day at your house sound like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cara scoffs. “Shut up, Mayfeld.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, you’ll dish it out but you don’t want to hear a word back.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Migs bares his teeth. “I’ll tell you what I think it sounds like.” He stands, climbs onto his table and surveys the room. Everyone stares at him, caught in the drama of it all. Good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles, fake and all-too-cheesy. He makes sure to direct it towards Cara, makes sure she sees the anger in his eyes. He folds his hands together, holding them in front of his chest. “Good morning, Cara!” He says, mimicking a motherly voice as best he can. He doesn’t remember his mother, not at all, barely remembers a time when his father wasn’t a raging drunk. “For breakfast we have eggs and bacon and pancakes and fresh fruit! Say, after breakfast do you want to go shopping? I know you’re into the whole punk thing, maybe we can find you a new jacket!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shifts, clasping his hands behind his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bo-Katan smirking. Cara, however, is frowning. Migs continues. “Why, mom, but I have homework! I’m not the teacher’s pet because I sit around shopping all day!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back to ‘mother’. “Why, that’s not a problem! You can do it in the car! Better yet, I’ll write your teachers! They’ll understand!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Cara’. “Wow, mom, thanks! You’re the best!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He mimes gagging. He bows, expecting no applause, and he gets none. Cara glares at him, but she says nothing, and that’s-- he’d honestly expected for her to try to beat the shit out of him for that. Strange, but not unwelcome. He’ll take it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about your house, Mayfeld? What’s yours sound like?” Cara growls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mine?” Migs grins, but there’s no humor behind it. The itch is worse. “My house?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what I said.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs. Everyone stares at him, waiting, watching. They’ll watch him take the piss out of Cara, and they’ll watch him do this, too. Ravenous for drama that distracts them from whatever shit’s going on in their own lives. Bread and circuses! An impassive audience for the tragic performance in front of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re all a little fucked, aren’t they?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My house,” Migs starts. He spreads his arms wide, eyeing everyone one in the room one after another. They want a story, he’ll give them a story. “sounds an awful lot like nothing at all, except for the television my dad falls asleep to. Unless you wake him up, or make a mess, or touch his food, or get in his way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands are shaking. They shouldn’t be. Why are they shaking? “If you do that, well. It’s all over. Stupid, worthless, no good, goddamn freeloader-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s six years old. He knows how to use the stove, how to wash dishes without making a sound. He knows not to step in the middle of the stairs, only on the sides. Don’t swing the fridge shut; close it gently. Never use the cupboards, they squeak and never close quietly. Do laundry when Dad’s out of the house. There’s no washer and dryer. Wash them in the bathtub.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s ten years old. Dad brings his work friends home most nights. Sometimes he brings a woman or two. Migs always hides in his room. He’s not allowed out, but even if he was, he wouldn’t leave. He pushes his dresser in front of the door, and then his nightstand. He sleeps in the closet, just in case.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s thirteen years old. He knows how to hide a bruise. Dad won’t break anything, never has, knows that will get too much attention, but bruises and marks are easy to hide. The hits only come after the scoldings get real bad, when Dad’s worked himself up so much he’s nearly purple with rage. He screams, hits, apologizes. Migs always forgives him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s sixteen years old. He’s out of the house as much as he can. Dad doesn’t care where he is, what he does, as long as he’s around at night when Dad brings friends home and they get drunk and-- and. Dad always apologizes. Migs doesn’t believe it now.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“--wish you had never been born!” Migs finishes, shouting at the top of his lungs. His breath catches in his throat, burning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a wonder Gideon didn’t hear any of that. Or maybe he did and decided he didn’t care. Everyone is silent. They all have the decency to look flustered and uncomfortable. Cara won’t look him in the eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s what I thought.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does that really happen?” Din asks quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna come over sometime? Spend the night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I call bullshit.” Bo-Katan says. “You’re lying, just like earlier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to punch her in the face, see how she likes it. Instead, he walks over, slow and steady, and pulls his sleeve up. A purple bruise wraps around his arm, just below his elbow, courtesy of Dad grabbing and holding with an iron grip. It’s in the shape of a handprint, a bit messy and uneven. A handprint nonetheless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you think of this?” He growls. She stares at it for a moment. “Well?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo-Katan purses her lips and refuses to meet his eyes.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Reckoning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fennec tosses a crumpled piece of paper at Boba. He frowns, jerking himself from his daydream, and stares at her. She offers a sly smile. &lt;</span>
  <em>
    <span>I have weed in my locker,&gt;</span>
  </em>
  <span> she signs in ASL. &lt;</span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you say we convince these guys to join us on the trip?&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba considers it all of half a second before nodding. &lt;</span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ll have to wait for Gideon to leave his office.&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>&lt;</span>
  <em>
    <span>He’ll leave eventually.&gt;</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fennec stretches in her seat. “Say, boys and girls, Boba and I want to get something from my locker. Anyone care to join?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get what?” Cara asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll have to wait and see.” Fennec answers. “A girl never tells.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m in.” Din says. “I could stretch my legs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba glances at him. He’s still an enigma to him. Nothing about the day has cleared anything up. He’d put himself between Boba and Bo-Katan before they could start brawling. He’d agreed to close the door. He’d steadfastly ignored Migs when he tried to get a rise out of him. He’d spent most of the day </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely still</span>
  </em>
  <span>. For lunch he’d had an utter abomination that Boba refuses to call food. And now he’ll get up and follow them to the other side of the school without bothering to ask why. Din Djarin is an enigma, and Boba hates not knowing anything about him. It’s frustrating, fascinating, in a way that gets under Boba’s skin. He wants to know more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to know more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din turns to look at him. They make eye contact-- at least, the best Boba can do with Din’s sunglasses in the way. He thinks that’s where Din’s eyes are. Boba offers him a grin. “Well, that’s three of us going. What about the rest of you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not.” Cara says. She sounds somewhere between excited and exasperated. “Are we waiting for Gideon to get lost?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Obviously.” Fennec says. “We’ll never get past him otherwise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how exactly are you going to know when he leaves?” Bo-Katan asks, haughty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fennec slides out of her seat and walks to the door. “We’ll wait and listen. Shouldn’t be too hard, even if we have to wait for a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba joins her, and seconds later, he feels Din and Cara stop beside him. Fennec presses her ear to the door and listens. Cara joins her. Boba leans against the counter, content to wait. He looks away before he can see Cara and Fennec make faces at each other. He’s sure by the end of the day the two of them will be thoroughly invested in each other, whether romantically or as friendly rivals.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he watches Din. Din stands about a foot away, facing the door. His hands hang at his sides, but there’s a tenseness in his entire body. He’s ready to move at a moment’s notice, Boba decides. Like a cat ready to pounce. Waiting patiently for the most opportune moment… Din’s head tilts towards him. Boba grins at him again. He won’t talk; this close to the door they’re only likely to gain Gideon’s attention if they make noise, and none of them want that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then Din lifts his hands from his sides. &lt;</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re sharing, right?&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, so he knows sign language, too. How strange. How interesting. &lt;</span>
  <em>
    <span>Obviously. Where’d you learn Sign?&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din shrugs. &lt;</span>
  <em>
    <span>I knew a deaf kid.&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>&lt;</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cute.&gt; </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>&lt;</span>
  <em>
    <span>Common decency.&gt;</span>
  </em>
  <span> For the first time, Din looks agitated. Then he shakes himself. &lt;</span>
  <em>
    <span>Where’d you and Shand learn Sign?&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;The internet. It was either that or Morse Code and we figured Sign is more useful in the end.&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;Sign is easier to notice. If you want to talk secretly Morse is the better option. Unless the people around you know Morse, they can’t prove anything.&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;Like that episode of The Office.&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;Like that episode of The Office.&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Migs appears at Din’s shoulder. He glances between the two of them with a raised eyebrow, but says nothing. Good. Din turns to look at him. They have an eye contact battle of wills-- how that works with Din’s sunglasses, Boba doesn’t know, but they’re very clearly having some sort of nonverbal argument-- and then Migs scowls, takes a few steps away from Din, and sulks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the corner of his eye, he sees Fennec slowly open the door. She looks out, then turns back to them with a grin. The game is on, then. She walks into the hallway and beckons them to follow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They do, one by one creeping into the hallway like mice. Fennec, Cara, Boba, Din, Migs, and finally-- with an air of annoyance-- Bo-Katan. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guess the princess doesn’t like being left out.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fennec leads the way. Boba knows where her locker is, but it’s hers, not his, and he’s perfectly fine sidling up beside Din and walking with him like they’ve done it a hundred times before. Din says nothing about it, doesn’t even acknowledge him, and Boba’s not sure whether he wants to be grateful or annoyed. Both? Both is good. He stews on that silently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo-Katan walks next to Fennec. “How do you know where Gideon went?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, then how do you know when he’ll be back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba can’t see the aghast look on Bo-Katan’s face, but he knows it’s there. He enjoys it all the same. He leans forward and claps her on the shoulder. “Being bad feels pretty good, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glares at him with enough venom to kill a man. Well, one that isn’t Boba, anyway. He only smiles at her and removes his hand. He lets himself fall back in line with Din. He’s done with provoking, he decides. He’s done enough for the day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’d much rather spend my time figuring Din Djarin out. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But Din doesn’t seem interested in continuing their conversation or starting a new one. Instead he stares straight forward like a man on a mission. Maybe he is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the point of going to Fennec’s locker?” He hears Migs ask Cara as they walk behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Beats me.” Cara answers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Migs sighs. “This is so stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. You’re one to talk, Mayfeld.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them say anything else. He’s honestly surprised they’re even talking after what happened. It’s an awkward situation for sure. Best to ignore it, apparently. Like it never happened, so none of them have to face that it wasn’t anything good. Whatever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t come across Gideon on their trip to Fennec’s locker. Wherever he went, it isn’t where they are. Still, Boba stands watch at the nearest hallway corner. Din does the same to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>other </span>
  </em>
  <span>corner after half a glance at him. From where he is, Boba can’t really hear what any of the others are saying as Fennec opens her locker. The hallways are long and they’re all being fairly quiet. Still, he knows exactly when Cara, Migs, and Bo-Katan realize exactly why they’ve all walked to the other side of the school. As expected, Bo-Katan is miffed as hell. Boba rolls his eyes and beckons for Din to rejoin them for the trip back. They’ll be taking Boba’s hallway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They make it down three hallways before nearly running into Gideon. He doesn’t notice them, going the other direction as they walk through a three-way cross section of hallways. Still, they all freeze in place. One step too loud and he’ll hear them. One cough, one gasp, the sound of fabric against fabric, could catch his attention. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All he has to do is turn around--</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As one, they book it down the hallway at top speed. They somehow manage not to make noise, their feet falling near-silent against the floor. Turn a corner- Gideon is there, oblivious. Double back. Keep running. He’s at the water fountain. He’s rounding the corner. He’s walking the other way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Go down the stairs. Run down a hallway. Pretend he can hear anything over the thumping of his heart. Forget that almost none of them like each other. They’re all in it together now, for better or worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every time it seems they’re making progress, Gideon is there and completely oblivious. It’s astonishing they haven't been noticed yet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Assume I know everything my ass.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Boba slides to a halt, feeling Migs stop just too late and bump into his back. Whatever, he doesn’t care. They turn around and go back the way they came.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Try again. Nope, there he is. Go this way. Go that way. Go up the stairs. Run past a hallway as Gideon walks down it, knowing that if he doesn’t notice them it’ll be by a miracle and a split second. Run. Be quiet. Make sure Migs doesn’t trip over his own feet. Dodge Bo-Katan as she stops dead in front of him. Ignore her sour look when he doesn’t quite manage it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m bigger than you, princess,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wants to say.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I can’t stop as quickly as you can.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba doesn’t, because they have bigger problems.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>..</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They almost make it back to the library. Instead, they hit a dead end. The gym, their best chance, their shortcut, is </span>
  <em>
    <span>locked</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The only way to go is back where they came, and where Gideon lurks as the worst, best, guard dog.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit.” Migs mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should’ve stayed in the library.” Bo-Katan snaps. “We’re dead. There’s no way we’re going to get back there without being noticed now. We’ve had too many close calls. We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba has to agree, as much as he hates it. Their only option-- backtracking once again-- is practically a deathwish at this point. They’d almost be better off staying where they are. Almost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, just me.” Migs says. “I got a plan. You guys get back to the library.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before anyone can say anything he runs off, singing at the top of his lungs. Boba stares at his retreating back. He recognizes lines from Tainted Love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give him a minute to get Gideon’s attention.” Boba hears himself saying. “Then we book it to the library.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good plan.” Cara says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo-Katan shakes her head. “Not like there’s any other.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’re all sitting nicely in their seats when Gideon and Migs return. Gideon is silently fuming-- it’s obvious in the rigid way he walks, the hand on Migs’ shoulder, the cold look in his eyes. Boba can’t bring himself to feel any sort of gratification from it, though. Not because it’s aimed at him, no-- because Migs is very clearly in a lot of trouble, and for what?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They have some weed and he took the fall of being out of the library for no reason other than… Boba doesn’t know. Boba doesn’t know, and it irks him. He tries to ignore Gideon’s little speech-- it starts out simple, leaving the library is not an option and this and that and </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Heard it once, heard it a thousand times.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there’s a reason nobody likes Gideon. He’s strict. He’s mean. He acts like he knows everyone better than they know themselves. He thinks he’s better than everyone and he thinks that it’s somehow something to be proud of. As if he isn’t a literal adult and they aren’t all teenagers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So when Gideon starts going at Migs the way Bo-Katan went at Boba, he’s just a little sympathetic towards Migs. And angry. Pissed, actually. It’s one thing for Bo-Katan, or any other student, to make a personal jab about this or that. They’re kids, teenagers, they’re all roughly on the same playing field and they’re all idiots in the end. Boba is well aware that there’s a difference between ‘discipline’ and ‘belittlement’. Gideon doesn’t ever seem to care about that. They’re one in the same to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone else in the room gets </span>
  <em>
    <span>acutely </span>
  </em>
  <span>uncomfortable around the time Gideon tells Migs he’s turning out just like his father. Whether he’s right or wrong it really doesn’t matter. They all know what his home life is like now, the kinds of things he has to deal with. A little bit, at least. Crumbs. Enough to recognize that the look in Migs’ eyes isn’t anger-- it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What kind of teacher says that to a student? The kind that thinks they’re doing the student a favor? Or the kind that just likes holding power over another person?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re headed down the same path, Fett. How does that make you feel?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon walks over to Migs, towers over him. Everyone else watches with rapt attention, unable to look away or say anything. Boba catches Bo-Katan’s eye and finds, despite her similar views towards him, that she looks as bothered as he does. Boba wrenches his gaze away and back to Gideon and Migs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the matter, Migs?” Gideon says gently. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mockingly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Are you going to cry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody says a word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart thumps in his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon grabs Migs’ arm. Migs flinches, lurching away and standing. He refuses to look Gideon in the eye. Gideon marches him out of the library without another word. The door closes behind them with a soft thud that matches the sound of his heart within his chest. And slowly, the tension drains to a more tolerable amount. Boba lets out a breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What an asshole.” Bo-Katan mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re one to talk.” Boba says, despite himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She twists around to glare at him. It lacks most of the intensity that the rest of the looks she’s given him have had. “Yeah, well, I’m not the Vice Principal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba, unfortunately, has to agree. They lapse into silence. It’s not comfortable; he keeps expecting Gideon to stalk back through the door to catch them in the act of-- something. And so nobody moves, and nobody bothers to ask Fennec about the weed she has hidden in her pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s just really not the same without all of them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon shoves Migs into a supply closet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A supply closet.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s been in worse places, but still. What kind of teacher puts a student in a supply closet as a punishment? Migs doesn’t complain aloud, can’t bring himself to even look at Gideon. His heart is thumping, thumping, thumping in his chest and everything is blurry and out of focus and-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon scolds him with an unrestrained anger, and Migs hears none of it. His hands shake. His breath rasps in his throat. He can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, why can’t he breathe?</span>
  <em>
    <span> Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me, get away, please-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon wants him to punch him. Migs stares at him, at the blurry shape crouching at eye level. He couldn’t, even if he wanted, but right now all Migs wants is to be left alone. He wants Gideon gone, out of his face. He wants to breathe. He’s suffocating on nothing but his own panic, and Gideon wants him to punch him in the face. It’s a trap. If he does, he’s in trouble. If he doesn’t, he’s all bark. He proves Gideon right either way and none of it feels good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon leaves, self-assured, and Migs buries his face in his knees and focuses on turning pain into anger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Migs Mayfeld falling through the ceiling is a surprise. He doesn’t seem hurt and swaggers over to their table. He doesn’t even seem bothered by whatever Gideon did to him. Din decides then and there that from now on, his primary mode of getting around the school will be through the ceiling. He’ll just have to be careful not to fall through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayfeld smirks at them as he walks down the staircase from the upper level. “Forgot my pencil.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>None of them have anything to say to that. What could they? Welcome back? I’m sorry? Nice trick? No, there’s nothing to say about it. And of course, the noise attracts Gideon. Din holds back a look of annoyance as Gideon stalks through the door. Ten minutes. They’d made it ten minutes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span> is going on in here?” Gideon asks, deadly calm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din ignores the pit of dread growing in his stomach. Gideon can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything to them. They’re just words. Ignore them. They all shrug, act confused. None of them are going to tell Gideon that Mayfeld fell through the ceiling and is now hiding under Din’s table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that sound?” Gideon tries again, still calm and disappointed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What sound?” Cara asks. “I didn’t hear anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know what I heard, and it came from here.” Gideon eyes them all one by one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo-Katan raises her hand. “Could you describe the sound, sir? Maybe it was just one of the vents or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideons eyes narrow. “You watch your tongue, Kryze.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayfeld taps Din on the thigh. No, not taps-- brushes. With his </span>
  <em>
    <span>face</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Din jerks, kicking, and hits Mayfeld solidly in the leg. Mayfeld groans. Fett drums out a short beat on his own table. Dune slides her feet from where they rest on her table. They hit the floor with a thud of their own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon looks around, tracking the noises with something almost like confusion on his face. “What is this? What are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean, sir?” Fennec drawls. “We aren’t doing anything, and none of us heard a noise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayfeld touches Din again and Din, realizing a moment too late that it was definitely unintentional, kicks him once more. This one catches him in the stomach and he coughs-- and Din coughs just as loudly to cover it up. The others join in half a second later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Din tries to send telepathically to Mayfeld. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That one was an accident.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was that the noise you heard?” Bo-Katan says, winding down from her coughing fit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon crosses his arms, not deterred in the slightest. “No, it wasn’t. I may not have caught you in the act this time, but you can bet I will eventually.” Boba snickers, half-disguising it as a cough. Gideon looks at him with narrowed eyes. “I will not be made a fool of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon turns and walks out of the library. There’s a string of toilet paper trailing from his left foot. The door swings shut behind him, and every single one of them dissolves into laughter. Even Din. Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mayfeld</span>
  </em>
  <span>, who Din kicked twice without restraint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayfeld crawls out from under Din’s table. “So are we getting high or what? I didn’t get myself in trouble for nothing, did I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hell yes, we’re getting high.” Shand says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Solitary Envy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bo-Katan watches the others get high with only a small amount of contempt. It’s ridiculous. Careless. Smoking weed in school, in detention, after they’ve already gotten in trouble several times is just dumb. It’s the worst possible decision to make after a day-- a week-- of terrible decisions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t care if people smoke weed in their downtime, it isn’t that. As long as people are responsible about it then it has nothing to do with her. Like drinking. Bo-Katan’s never gotten high in her life, but Satine had with that boyfriend of hers, and they’d thought they were being so clever as if Mom and Dad didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Bo-Katan just hadn’t found any sort of interest in it (not that Satine would have let her if she’d asked, but she could have snuck into Satine’s stash if she’d really wanted to). She also hadn’t found anything wrong with it. It’s weed, not crack or heroin. She’s not that stuck up, and even Satine’s coma hadn’t changed her mind about it. But this is not the time, for God’s sake! Gideon is on guard, and he likes none of them, smoking is just the worst possible decision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shand has herself curled into one of the armchairs in the corner. She probably does this a lot, Bo-Katan thinks. She’s used to this. Fett lays on the floor, stretched out on his back like a cat. Considering he and Shand are friends, this definitely isn’t the first time he’s gotten high, either. She’d have expected him to be more boisterous. Dune lounges in the other armchair like the world’s most self-assured lesbian, and-- (is Dune a lesbian? Shand is into girls, definitely, she couldn’t have just been bluffing about Xi’an. But Bo-Katan has no idea if </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dune </span>
  </em>
  <span>is into girls, and she really shouldn’t be thinking about this</span>
  <em>
    <span> right now, anyway.</span>
  </em>
  <span>) She shakes herself mentally.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Djarin, the silent, stoic watcher, is giggling like a twelve year old girl at a sleepover. It’s… astounding, actually. She wonders if he’ll regret it after, realizing he’s completely broken the mysterious image he’s kept since he started going to their school. He sits in the third armchair, leaning forward, like he’s ready to spring up at any moment, but it feels less like an anxious action and more like an energized one. He turns and passes the joint to Mayfeld, who leans against the back of his chair. Mayfeld takes it, takes a drag, and hands it back, coughing all the while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the most easygoing everyone’s been with each other all day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo-Katan sighs. She’s not going to smoke any. She’s not interested. Just smelling it brings back memories-- mostly good, admittedly, but they all involve Satine and she really doesn’t want to think about Satine. It’s too late for that, unfortunately. But she’s still not going to try the joint. With a sigh, Bo-Katan walks over and joins Fett on the floor. He glances at her, eyebrow raised, and offers the joint. She shakes her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not interested.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugs. “More for us, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They continue to pass the joint around. Djarin composes himself, then a minute later something sets him off again. This time he sets Mayfeld off, too, and the two of them giggle about nothing together, using the armchair like a lifeline. Considering the two of them didn’t seem to like each other before, it’s an interesting development.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t have taken you for a giggler, Djarin.” Dune says. A lazy smile stretches across her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Djarin twists in his chair until he’s laying bridal style. “So?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, it’s funny.” Dune says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Totally not like what we’ve seen before.” Bo-Katan adds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shand grins.  “Yeah, what’s with the whole silent thing, anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know sign language.” Fett props himself up on his elbows. “And you ate whatever the fuck that was for lunch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, what the fuck, Din?” Mayfeld leans over the chair to smack Djarin playfully in the face. “You’re a fucking freak, you know that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So’re you, Mayfeld.” Djarin says. He doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the topic of conversation, and shoves Mayfeld’s hand away. “We’re all weird as shit. Some of us just hide it better than others.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you’re just projecting.” Bo-Katan mutters. She brushes hair behind her ear. “But seriously, honey and jelly on a hamburger?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s good.” Djarin says. He frowns. “Besides, it’s going to the same place, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not good!” Dune says, laughing. She smacks her hand against the arm of her chair. “None of that goes together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Djarin shrugs, or at least does as much as he can with the way he’s laying. “I don’t know, wasn’t jellyfish jelly on krabby patties a thing in Spongebob?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you usually take inspiration on how to live your life from cartoons?” Fett snorts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Djarin says, and bursts into giggles again. “It’s not bad, really. But I like watching peoples’ reactions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that what you do? Watch people?” Bo-Katan asks, thinking of History class.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>History class, and his habit of remaining completely still. How he’d spent a good portion of the day sitting at his table hiding behind his glasses. He’d put himself between her and Fett and told them to calm down. He’s-- he’s one of the weirdest people she’s ever met.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Obviously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fennec leans forward. “Do you actually notice anything or is it all surface-level? Are you Rear Windowing everyone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rear Window?” Mayfeld wonders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a Hitchcock movie from 1954 about a guy that watches his neighbors because he’s got nothing else to do and ends up noticing and solving a murder.” Fett says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo-Katan eyes him. There’s an uncomfortable feeling in her chest. “You’ve seen Rear Window?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives her a look. “Just because my home life isn’t the same as yours doesn’t mean I don’t know classic movies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Back to Djarin,” Dune says carefully. “Does this mean you know things about people?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.” Djarin says. Dune passes him a joint. “People think I’m weird and dense and don’t realize how much I notice. How much I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what?” Dune asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Djarin thinks for a moment. Everyone waits with baited breath. What’s he going to say? Something profound? Something ridiculous? Something obvious? She’s not even sure why she cares, really, except-- what does he know about her? The only time they see each other is in History class, and right now in detention. He can’t know that much about her, right? Or any of them. Yet, he probably knows more about them than they do him. If he’s being honest. That’s… not a comforting thought, actually. Not at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The 7th grade art teacher is having an affair with the head lunch lady.” Djarin says. “Mr. Cooper watches porn on his laptop while we take our math tests. Lando Calrissian got in a fistfight with Cobb Vanth because they both wanted to be the lead in the school play. Peli Motto won a robotics competition and earned a full ride to MIT. Toro Calican cheats on every test he takes and all the teachers know it, but because his dad is the police chief he gets away with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyone would notice that.” Bo-Katan says. She shakes her head. “It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes-level intellect.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never said I was Sherlock Holmes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, you’re acting like it’s hard to find out everything you’ve just told us. It’s not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All I said was that I like to watch people, and I know more than people realize. Did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>know any of that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blushes. The answer is no, she didn’t, but why would she try to find any of that out? It has nothing to do with her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why should I care that Olivia Harper is pregnant?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “What do you do with all that information?” She asks, instead of answering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not much. I know who to avoid, who won’t pay attention to me and who might try to get something from me. Sometimes information might not seem important at the moment, but who knows about the future. And sometimes I just like to know things.” He cracks a smile. “Also, it’s funny to mess with people.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you know about Gideon?” Cara asks. She eyes Djarin, still laying bridal style in his chair. “You have to know something, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grimaces. It’s strange. This is the most emotion she’s seen from him, ever. And to think-- all it took was getting him high. But his apparent interest in watching people, while understandable, strikes a chord. Just earlier he’d said he didn’t care to know why she was in detention. Was he lying? Does he already know? Why the direct contradiction?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know some things, but he’s pretty secretive.” Djarin says. “He thinks we’re all disrespectful. He has a sadistic side, but he thinks it’s necessary. Like the way that COs at prisons think they’re hot shit and treat the inmates like crap and think they’re doing the world a favor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fett laughs, but it’s a low, forceful thing. Cara imagines he knows how COs treat their prisoners pretty well, with his family history. She doesn’t know much about Fett, at least, the truth versus the gossip, but it’s pretty known that his father is, in fact, a criminal. Kryze hadn’t had to go airing it out for the entire room to hear, though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kryze tosses her head. “We all know that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bet you didn’t know he was in the army before he started working as Vice Principal.” Djarin says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>catches Cara’s attention more than anything else. She catches Shand’s eye and smiles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This could be useful.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Mayfeld asks. He leans over Djarin’s chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He did. He was discharged, but I don’t know what type. I’m pretty sure that if it was an honorable discharge he’d let us know, though, so he must’ve done something wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cara snorts. “He couldn’t have done something that bad or else he wouldn’t’ve been able to teach here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you find that out, anyway?” Kryze asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She frowns at Djarin, squinting like she’s looking for a specific piece of puzzle in a mountain of pieces. Cara relates to a point, but as interesting as the information is, what are they going to do with it? Blackmail him? Then again, he is a dick...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s friends with my foster parents. We have dinner at his house every last Saturday of the month, and they always make me and his grandkids hang out in the yard while they do ‘adult things’ in the living room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her jaw drops open. Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>a surprise. “He has grandkids?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been to his </span>
  <em>
    <span>house</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Kryze gasps. “You know where he lives?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep.” Djarin grins. “He doesn’t like me very much. One time I snuck into his office and took a look around. He knows I was in there but he can’t prove anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re kind of a bastard, Din.” Mayfeld says. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I might actually like you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m still on the fence about you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fennec snorts at Mayfeld’s affronted look. Dune chuckles along with her. As much as she wants to keep heckling Mayfeld-- it’s funny, why not?-- there’s actually something much more important going on. Something she’s pretty sure they can all get behind. Fennec catches Boba’s eye. </span>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;Blackmail?&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grins. </span>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;Blackmail.&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say,” Fennec starts.  “We can all agree that Gideon is an asshole. We all have reasons not to like him, especially after today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your point?” Mayfeld asks. He raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She spreads her arms. Let out all the facts and everyone will come to the conclusion you want them to. Give them a nudge if they need it. They’ll all think it was their idea. “Well, it just sounds to me we’ve all found a common enemy. He doesn’t like us, we don’t like him, it’s a bonding point. Look at us, sitting here smoking weed together when this morning we hated each others’ guts.” She glances at Boba. “Mostly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“School would be a hell of a lot better if he wasn’t here.” Boba grunts, steering the conversation even closer to what they want. Hopefully without it being obvious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayfeld snorts. “Oh, I can agree with that. I’d have half the amount of detentions if he wasn’t here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Djarin frowns at her. “What are you suggesting?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not suggesting anything. I just noticed how close we’ve gotten.” Fennec smiles benignly at her. She can tell he isn’t fooled, not one bit, but the real question is if he’ll go along with it...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you guys want to know how I got detention?” Djarin says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fennec blinks. Not what she was expecting. She’d thought he’d maybe go along, or call her out, or just say nothing. Not completely steer the conversation in another direction. She squints at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What are you playing at, Djarin?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, out with it!” Boba says, playing along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Djarin sits up in his chair and, slowly, pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head. His eyes are brown-- she didn’t know that. They bounce from person to person, barely pausing for half a second before moving on. There are dark circles under his eyes, from loss of sleep or something else, she doesn’t know that, either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I broke into Gideon’s office here at school.” Djarin says. “He caught me in the middle of it. I misjudged how long he’d be gone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d you do that?” Kryze asks. She sniffs. “Of course you got caught! You were asking for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was looking for something. I saw it in his home office when I looked around, but it isn’t there now. I figured it must be in his school office.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?” Fennec asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Djarin grins. “A very expensive piece of antique armor. I was going to steal it and pawn it off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would Gideon bring it here?” Kryze shakes her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Din did say Gideon knew he was in his home office. Wouldn’t want it to get stolen.” Fennec says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You actually believe him?” Kryze raises an eyebrow at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually,” Mayfeld interjects. “I can attest to the fact that Din broke into Gideon’s school office, and he did in fact get detention for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” Dune asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayfeld rolls his eyes. “Because Gideon thought I was his lookout! I was just in the area and got dragged into his drama.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Din says, sounding not at all sorry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayfeld scoffs. “Yeah, yeah, if you were you would’ve told him the truth when he gave both of us detention. Whatever. I’m over it. I probably would’ve gotten detention anyway for something else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din looks at Mayfeld. Mayfeld looks at Din. Din scoots over in the chair and pats the small empty space beside him. “Well, I won’t do it again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fennec grins as Mayfeld-- Migs, really-- squishes himself into the chair beside Din. “Next time just actually get me involved, alright? I’ll partake in the party, I just don’t want to get in trouble for something I didn’t do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fennec glances at the others. Boba’s all eyes on Din, like he’s been almost all day. Kryze looks more confused than ever. Dune is just amused by the entire situation. Well. Fennec can work with this. She could push them back on the path she’d set, but there might be virtue in continuing down this one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since we’re sharing, I got detention for a fight.” She says. “I beat the crap out of Toro Calican for his cheap shot during gym class.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’d he do?” Dune stretches in her seat. “Hit you in the face with a basketball or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tinikling! He tripped me with one of the poles so his friend could win the competition we were having. He could’ve broken my ankle, and he didn’t even get in trouble for it. They just told him to be more careful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That does sound like him.” Din mumbles. He raises his voice. “He tried getting me to do his homework once. I think he thought that since I’m quiet I’d be intimidated by him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Him? A tenth grader?” Fennec shakes her head. “Yeah, he’s an idiot. He doesn’t think things through.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s because his dad does it for him.” Din’s lips twitch. “Guess he underestimated you, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He really should’ve just finished the job.” Fennec agrees. She makes eye contact with Dune. Dune shakes her head, laughing slightly. “What’d you do to get in here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dune’s smile turns into a frown immediately. She glances at Din. “I, uh, skipped school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You skipped school? The senior valedictorian skipped school?” Migs says. He scoffs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I had a good reason, alright?” Dune sends him a glare. “I was protesting the administration. I figured my parents would be into it, considering they’re always going on about how I have to set an example. And we all know how the administration is corrupt-- if they weren’t, Gideon wouldn’t be treating us this way. Calican wouldn’t get away with cheating his way through school. That stuff. Turns out they don’t care about that. They just care about appearances, and going against the grain and speaking out like that doesn’t help with </span>
  <em>
    <span>appearances</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So I got detention for skipping school, and I have a buttload of punishments at home for not being the picture-perfect daughter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fennec… no, she doesn’t relate. Not really. Still, “My parents are too busy to pay attention to me. I think they think they’re doing a great job at being parents, but I couldn’t tell you the last time we were all together and did something. It doesn’t matter if I’m perfect or if I’m a miscreant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucky you. I’d give anything to have my parents off my back.” Cara sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fennec chews her lip. There’s a tug of nervousness, the slight shake of her hands. “I’d do anything to have my parents’ attention.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My foster family doesn’t care about me. They just want the money they get for taking me in.” Din says quietly. “And they tell me I should be grateful. I’d rather be living on the street than have to tell them how grateful I am that they let me eat </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>food and sleep in </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>house.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, we all know what my home life is like. I’m not repeating it.” Migs says. He crosses his arms, hunching over in his chair. Din glances at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a moment of quiet; the air isn’t awkward, exactly, just heavy. How are you supposed to act about something like that? Almost strangers just spilling their terrible home situations to you?</span>
  <em>
    <span> And I did the same,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fennec languishes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Boba can see everyone’s faces from his position on the floor. Even Fennec’s, despite his place at the feet of her chair. She leans forward just enough for him to see. Right now, though, he wishes he couldn’t see all of their faces. It’s all depressing. He’d wanted to know more about Din, and then he’d gone and said that-- Boba desperately wishes the state would let his dad take Din in, because he knows (he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>) that his dad would without a second thought. But nobody trusts Jango Fett. Nobody trusts anyone in the Fett family. A few mistakes, a few bad life choices, and nobody with the name has a chance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba swallows. Kryze looks as uncomfortable as he does, the two of them being the only ones that haven’t shared anything. Other than in their little argument earlier this morning. The one that Din had-- he’d-- Boba sighs.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“I’m only here because I didn’t have anything better to do,” he admits. “Dad’s trying to get his feet back under him and get mom in rehab, but nobody will hire him and rehab won’t take her unless she checks herself in or does something to endanger someone else because of her drug habits. Home isn’t a very nice place to be right now. It never is, but it’s almost worse knowing that even though we’re trying nothing is changing.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>Oh, there they are. The tears. He scowls, trying to will them away. He won’t cry. He won’t touch his face to wipe away tears as they form because then everyone will know he’s crying and he. Doesn’t. Cry. Boba Fett doesn’t cry. He catches Kryze’s eye. She’s pale, mouth partially open in a frown. They stare at each other for a moment. She looks away and practically deflates in on herself. Boba tears his eyes away from her and looks at the ceiling. Much better.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Satine… my sister… she was my parents’ golden child. She couldn’t do anything wrong. I never minded it. How could I? She was my sister. She never let any of the fawning go to her head. She was such a good person. And now she’s in a coma because of my mistake.” Kryze says. Her voice is little more than a whisper at the start, but it raises in volume as she speaks. “My parents don’t even blame me for it. I was eleven, she was already an adult. But it was all my fault. And now without Satine, my parents just keep pushing for me to be the best. If not in school then in extracurriculars. Be the best employee at my job. Be the best field hockey captain there’s ever been. Be the best at my martial arts club, even though they don’t want me to be part of it anyway. When I’m not it’s just… quiet judgement. I’m not good enough. I’m not her. I’ll never be good enough. So when my grades started slipping I figured out how to access the school grading system to change my grades. If I don’t have good grades, I can’t do field hockey. If I can’t do field hockey, what even am I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba turns his head to look at Bo-Katan. “You’re telling me you’re always talking shit at me just because you can’t deal with your own problems?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flinches. Actual, full-body flinches. The knot in his stomach settles, slightly. “I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cuts her off. “No, I get it. We’re easy. Our families never got along anyway, and it’s not like everything you’ve said about mine is a lie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I shouldn't've.” She says softly. “None of your family’s problems are my business. I’ve done it because it made me feel better about myself. Because it’s what my parents do and I just want them to be proud of me. But I shouldn’t judge you like I have. I shouldn’t judge </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of you like I have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone does it.” Din says. He shrugs. “I mean, literally everyone. We all have biases, we all take what we see and run with it, whether it’s the truth or not. And we’re all a lot more broken than we pretend to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Amen to that.” Cara agrees. “Some of us are better at hiding it is all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And we’re all going to follow our parents’ footsteps unless we do something about it.” Migs says. “Ain’t that right? We just turn into our parents eventually because it’s all we know. We spend so much time trying to make them love us, or leave us alone, that we end up doing the same things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boba rubs his face. This isn’t what he signed up for when he walked in here today. Not one bit. His throat feels tight, his eyes are still threatening to make tears. He feels off-kilter in a way that he never feels, ever. What’s that quote? </span>
  <em>
    <span>The mortifying ordeal… if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yeah, it feels like that. It shouldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, at least we know we’re doing it, right?” Boba says. Everyone turns to look at him, flat on his back on the floor. He feels like an ant like this. Even Fennec, familiar, friendly Fennec, is almost too much. “Means we can change, right? Not turn out like our parents.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody answers, but nobody has to.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, this chapter was a doozy to write. For one, I've never been high in my life. For two, this section is arguably the most important and man, there's a lot that goes into it. Classes have been keeping me busy, too, and the holiday, and for a while I completely lost my groove and couldn't figure out how to continue the scene. I liked what I'd already written, and knew what I had to write, but couldn't figure out how to connect the two. I got it though! Also, 'Mr. Cooper' is absolutely a reference to The Client, who unfortunately didn't receive a name in the show. The idea of Gideon having grandkids, by the way, came to me after I realized that Giancarlo Esposito is in his sixties and so it's perfectly reasonable for Gideon to have grandchildren in their twenties-- though in this story, imagine Gideon's grandkids are in the six to fourteen age range.<br/>Anyway, let me know what you guys think! Feedback is appreciated; I love hearing what you think might happen next and your reactions to what's happening now.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>